Stirrings
by lilkyonkyon
Summary: Bel Tine was a joyous occasion, one meant to celebrate love and the coming of spring. Lan was instead cleaning the streets of Trolloc filth. But that didn't mean spring hadn't come. Lan and Nynaeve. EotW. Oneshot.


**Stirrings**

They had barely time enough to warn the village before the attack. Trollocs poured in from the fields, from every direction, more than he could have ever imagined here in this quiet town. Lan rallied as many as he could between skirmishes, his blade tainted with the beasts' putrid blood, slick and foul. He thanked the Light that these people were so strong-willed; any other villagers would have been reduced to sniveling wrecks at the sight of tales come to life, but the people here gave a strong nod and ran to get anything they could. Women fought too, and healed.

Moiraine and he took the brunt of the battle. It seemed to last minutes. He had never been good at telling time in a battle. He only judged it by the fatigue in his muscles. To him, this battle was nothing, over before it began.

As he sank his sword into the heart of the last Trolloc breathing, he caught sight of a young woman, hair plaited, with a look frightening enough to tame any warrior. He recognized her, and grimaced. The young woman from earlier, who looked as if she would have taken Moiraine's head for calling her a girl. It had been hard to fight off laughter at her misplaced outrage, but he did not want to attract her harassment. She insisted so strongly on being called "Wisdom", he had yet to hear her true name. Lan could tell she took her role to heart—perhaps too much so.

She marched up to him and his charge, gritting her teeth and tugging on her braid rhythmically.

"You… did you just…? Are you…?" she stuttered.

Moiraine blinked, exuding calm. "An Aes Sedai, yes."

Her fist gave such a sharp jerk on her plait, Lan was surprised it didn't come clean off. "What business do you have here? Attracting monsters to my village? Hurting the people of Emond's Field?"

"That was not my intention, believe me."

Her face became so ferocious, Lan found himself instinctively shifting to shield Moiraine from the girl's gaze. "Am I to believe you? You, a perfect stranger? Look around you, my _Lady_ "—the word savored of insult—"and see what you have caused!"

Lan interrupted her tirade. "She is here to help your village, Wisdom, not harm it." For the very first time, the girl's eyes looked into his—dark eyes, almost black, unlike any he had seen outside of this village. Or within it, for that matter. Though the glare wavered for a second, it never lost its intensity.

"The Warder, I presume?" she sneered. He nodded, keeping his face a mask despite the anger that flecked inside of him. "Do not defend her. I have seen her help. Fire, and lighting." She spat the words like curses. "Some of these buildings were not casualties of the Trollocs." Lan knew that the claim was untrue, but neither he nor Moiraine had proof besides their word. This girl would obviously require much more than that. She straightened even further, and though her height did not reach his shoulder, he felt he was staring down an equal. "Unfortunately, I have seen her skill at healing. She is almost all I have to help, so she will have to do."

Moiraine bowed her head and said, "Thank you, Wisdom." It did not sound humble, though Lan did not expect it to.

The Wisdom sniffed. "There is no need for formality. I have people to tend, and so do you."

Instead of answering her conceit, Moiraine nodded and began to approach the nearest injured. Lan followed. Before they managed to get very far, the Wisdom cleared her throat. "Not the Warder," she ordered. "He will help the men clear the streets."

Lan was so surprised by her gall, he could not respond for a moment. Finally, he turned and grit out, "You do not command me."

She raised an eyebrow. "Are you trying to intimidate me, Master Warder?"

"Far be it from me to do so," he stated, sarcasm only hinting in his voice. It was Moiraine's turn to stare at him—hers was with barely-concealed wonder. He gave her an exasperated tug of his lips. She smirked.

The Wisdom cleared her throat again, drawing their eyes. "I am sure that the Aes Sedai would agree with me."

"I do." Moiraine was still smiling at him. "Follow the Wisdom, Lan."

"I—"

"She will take you where you will be most useful." The finality in her voice was unquestionable, so Lan gave her one last glare before he moved towards the Wisdom. "I will begin Healing while you are away," she called as the two of them started down the street.

The fires were dying down, and men were hefting bodies of slain Trollocs into carts to be taken to the edge of town. Though the population of Two Rivers was small, it was hard to maneuver through the dirt road with all of the people filling it. At once, the girl made a beeline for the outskirts of the village. "This way, Warder," she said, hopping over the fence. "It will be faster if we cut through the field."

He followed her, clearing the fence with a graceful swing of his legs. She scowled in irritation, so to bother her further, he told her, "You may call me Lan. As the name Warder sounds so distasteful from your lips," he added. "What may I call you?"

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, her lips forming a disapproving scowl. "You may call me Wisdom, Lan."

He tightened his jaw, but gave no other reply.

"Now hurry." She took her skirts in her hands and began to run. He quickly scanned the field for danger before following after her. The night was clear, with enough light for them to see by without aid. She kept a steady pace, panting little, and glancing at him from time to time. He wryly wondered if she were trying to impress him. At once, they both halted.

There was a grey mass in front of them—not Trolloc or Fade, but wolf. Blood was on its muzzle, but not the red blood of a sheep. It was black blood. The blood of a Fade. Lan had heard stories of wolves helping in battles against Shadowspawn, but this was the first time he had witnessed proof of it. He would have to tell Moiraine of this.

"A wolf?" he heard her whisper. "They've never come this close to the village." It was already loping away from them, disappearing into the darkness.

"It will not harm you."

"I know that!" she snapped back.

It became apparent to Lan that he should only speak when spoken to directly. After letting her glower settle into his bones, she continued to run, this time even faster. They finally reached the West end of the village, where she was able to pick her way through the wreckage of the broken fence to find the street. This side fared worse; Lan and Moiraine had not been close enough to protect this side from the onslaught. Smoke and ashes were all that remained of some houses, and a few were digging through the rubble to find the injured. Or worse.

"Nynaeve!" A girl burst from the crowd of men and dashed forward. To Lan's eyes, she was not yet eighteen. Her hair was braided back, and her dress was filthy with soot and blood. Even so, she had the same determined set to her jaw as all the Two Rivers folks did.

"Egwene!" the Wisdom called. They ran into each other's arms.

"I have been looking everywhere for you!" the girl cried into her shoulder.

"I am glad you are well, child," the Wisdom—rather, Nynaeve—cooed. She broke free from the younger girl's embrace. "Do you have your herbs with you?"

"Yes, I got them as soon as I could."

"Good. Take them and head down the road a ways—no, better yet, take the field. It will be faster. You'll find the Lady Moiraine by Adan al'Caar's house. Help her to tend the wounded."

"And what of you?"

"I will be along very soon."

The girl began to leave but caught sight of Lan and paused. He bowed his head in greeting, and she smiled as she said, "It is good of you to help us, my Lord."

"Just Lan," he corrected, as Nynaeve said, "Hurry, child. I will catch up." Egwene cast him a curious look, but dared not disobey the village Wisdom. She picked up her skirts and hurried away. In the meantime, Nynaeve placed her hands on her hips and turned to face him.

"She does not need to know what you two are of yet. She is young, and having her head full of those tales will distract her."

"I see. And you are not distracted?" He kept his voice perfectly level, but she still cast him a sharp glare.

"Of course not."

"Good. Then you may go on your way, Nynaeve."

At the sound of her given name, she straightened, and her face turned red enough to be seen in the frail light of dawn. "Don't call me that," she hissed.

A villager shouted for her help, and she shouted back, "I am coming, hold your horses!" With one fleeting look at Lan, she dashed up the road, already pulling out her herbs from her pack. Lan shook his head before he strode up to the other villagers and settled into work. A headstrong girl, much too full of herself. He was glad that they would be leaving her behind.

* * *

You know, sometimes I hate how the women are represented in The Wheel of Time, but I think with a little love (and a lot less skirt-flattening) they could be alright. Anyways. Thanks for reading. Please review.


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